


keyframes

by wyvernlordminerva



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M, more post-rd ikesoren elopement nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernlordminerva/pseuds/wyvernlordminerva
Summary: When the time came, neither of them hesitated.





	keyframes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopeandjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeandjoy/gifts).



> this was a nagamas gift for @hopeandjoy. i usually dont post gifts/requests off my tumblr, but i was really, really happy with how this one turned out. and ive been in ikesoren hell for the better part of a year with nothing to show for it (yet) besides this, so it felt reasonable
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It was all too easy.

A vague idea whispered tiredly into the fabric of a nightshirt, and mere days later, what few things they cared about were haphazardly shoved into bags, along with a few necessities (“Food, Ike, we need food-” “Right, right-”). That was all. No notes, no goodbyes, they were gone, vanished into the night without a trace or a single glance back.

That was wrong, wasn’t it? There should have been some guilt, some regret, at leaving behind everyone. His work, his friends, his family…

Ike glanced over at his traveling partner, perfectly matched in pace. Soren looked back, curious, but not probing.

Well, not everyone.

Neither of them had said a word since they had left, and it seemed the silence wasn’t about to break any time soon. Maybe it was the gravity of what they had just done, maybe it was nerves. After all, it was still so new, whatever this was that they had. Even now, he could feel Soren endlessly calculating all the possible negative outcomes. Regardless, Ike had yet to feel like he’d made the wrong decision.

Tentative, he reached out a hand, brushing the smooth skin of Soren’s palm. Soren stiffened. For a moment, Ike wondered if he had done something wrong, but when he tried to withdraw, Soren quickly reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing tightly enough to give the impression he never wanted to let go.

Ike smiled to himself. They’d have plenty of time to figure it out.

* * *

Back at the mercenary fort, before things had taken a turn for the unfortunate, they had shared a bunk, and later, during the first war, it hadn’t been uncommon for them to share a room or one of the larger tents to save funds. The tent they had packed, however, was nowhere near as big.

Soren had resolutely turned his back to Ike and curled up to maintain the illusion of personal space, Ike stiff on his back, uncertain how to move without waking Soren. He sighed. This really wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

Ike looked at the back of Soren’s head, appraising the thin, silky strands. He thought back to when Soren had first approached their mercenary group, and his hair was short, choppy, uneven. His excuse had been something along the lines of long hair being a hazard, attracting bugs, snagging on branches, leaving you vulnerable to being grabbed, but as time went on, he hadn’t bothered to keep it trimmed.

Ike liked it so, so much better long.

Careful, Ike reached out and brushed the hair away from his neck, revealing skin pale enough to be visible even in the darkness. Soren shuddered ever so slightly. Not asleep yet, then. Ike gently rolled over and scooped the smaller man into his arms, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s cold,” he offered as a weak excuse. Soren was tense in his arms, and Ike wondered if he had gone too fast, again, but eventually, he relaxed.

“Is it…” he whispered, almost inaudible, “…is it always going to be like this with you?”

“What do you mean?” Ike asked. He felt Soren shake his head.

“No, it’s nothing.” Soren turned his cheek away from Ike’s lips, which were drifting closer by the moment. “Go to sleep, Ike.”

Ike didn’t respond, but he did as he was told.

* * *

It rained last night.

Whether it was poor planning or them being too caught up in themselves to notice (most likely, some mix of both), their camp had been caught in the middle of it, and the pair had been rudely, wetly awoken and forced to scramble to save what they could. Not that they could do much, aside from move things somewhere slightly less soaked. By the time morning broke, the rain had stopped, but neither of them had slept, and could only stare tiredly at the flooded remains of their campsite.

“I’m sorry,” Ike said, doing his best impression of a sad, neglected dog. Soren shook his head.

“You can’t control the weather,” Soren assured, calm, but with the edge of exhaustion in his voice that betrayed his true feelings. Huffing, Soren gathered up his hair and rung it out in the mud. Ike, alternatively, went through their things one last time to see if anything could be salvaged.

The ink from the map had run off to stain some of his clothes, to his chagrin, but at least there happened to be a village nearby. Their bedroll, Ike could mourn. They could hang it up to dry, but it was so soaked it’d take maybe a week until it was fully usable again, provided no mold or mildew decided to grow in it.

In a nearby tree, a bird chirped, basking in the early morning sunshine. Ike internally sent some choice curses its way and went back to rummaging through their things.

“Soren, how much money did we bring?” he asked.

“Enough, I hope,” Soren sighed. Ike wanted to reach out and smooth away the frustrated creases of his face, but before he could consider that thought for a moment longer, his head lurched forward with a sneeze.

Soren wrenched around so quickly, Ike could’ve sworn he heard something snap.

“I’m okay,” Ike tried. Soren wasn’t glaring at him, specifically, just in his general direction, but that didn’t change the fact his looks could slaughter even the strongest of men.

“Go change into something dry,” he ordered.

“Nothing’s dry.”

Soren moved his glare to their soaked packs, as though that would solve their current predicament. Ike didn’t quite understand what he was getting so worked up about; they had been through worse than this in the wars. Ike hadn’t gotten sick then, and he wouldn’t get sick now. Nevertheless, Soren sent him on his way to the next village with a list, and Ike didn’t miss the extra herbs carefully slipped into the middle.

When Ike returned, late in the afternoon, the camp had been mostly put back together, with the exception of some things still sunk in the mud. Their extra clothes and any other cloth Soren could find had been hung out, along with the robe he’d been wearing before. Ike mentally reminded himself to add his later and hunted down wherever Soren had decided to brood this time.

* * *

In the end, Ike hadn’t gotten sick. Soren, however…

Soren was right in the assertion that it wasn’t anything serious. A sinus infection, at best; even still, Ike knew not to underestimate illness. Unfortunately, Soren made for a bitter, uncooperative patient, refusing to stay in bed and be cared for like he should be.

It had gotten to the point where Ike had to sit outside their shared tent and keep watch, lest Soren slip out and start doing… he had no idea. Taxes, maybe? Did they still have to pay those?

He heard a sneeze from their shared tent, and Ike peeked in, sizing up Soren’s irritated, stuffy features.

“Your face is starting to swell,” Ike commented casually, Soren grumbling to himself and wiping his face on his sleeve. Ike hoped he’d remember to wash the sheets after this.

“Ike,” Soren grumbled, voice scratchy, “You don’t have to baby me. I’m fine.”

“If it were me, you’d be losing your mind right about now,” Ike said. “And yeah, I do, since you don’t seem to be willing to take care of yourself.” Face morphing from irritated to just plain exhausted, Soren sank back under the covers and rolled over to avoid Ike’s gaze.

“I just…” He huffed, voice muffled by their brand-new blankets. “We should be moving again by now, and I’m just weighing us down-”

Ike wanted to gather him up in his arms and silence him with a few well-placed kisses, but there were a bit too many flaws in that plan (the first of which was the fact that he’d probably crush Soren in the attempt, and the last being that he was sick and that was gross). “Soren, you could never drag me down. If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve have asked.”

Soren looked up at Ike from the pillows in a thinly-masked wonder.

“Besides, I’m not on this trip just to get somewhere, I’m here to explore,” he continued. “If we didn’t take some time to slow down every once in a while, it wouldn’t be worth it.” Ike reached out and brushed sweat-slick hair out of his face, frowning at the heat emanating from his skin. “You should get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

Sighing (and shivering ever so slightly, whether it be from the contact or the illness), Soren allowed his eyes to close and nestled in the blankets. “Don’t destroy too much,” he commented one last time, then Ike laughed and let him be.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much left for him to “destroy.” He had already done the camp’s daily chores, and nothing else needed care from the storm. Ike sat down on the nearby log they had repurposed as a bench and thought for a few moments, thinking back to the herbs Soren had made him buy a few days ago.

Silently, Ike began formulating a plan.

* * *

“You awake?” Ike asked, peeking into the tent again. Soren blinked sluggishly, about to ask him where he’d been all day, only to notice a bowl in his hands, steam curling from the surface.

“Did you…?” He sat up, accepting the offered soup. Cautiously, he sniffed it, then made a face. “What did you make this out of?”

“Uh, I had some pheasant, so…” Ike said. Soren took a sip.

“…Ike,” he said, voice sharp even through the cold, “You realize you’re supposed to cook medicinal herbs in tea, not soup.”

Ike blinked. “Oh.” Soren reached over to hand the bowl back to Ike. “No, wait, you should drink it anyway.”

“Ike, you burnt it, regardless.” he dismissed. Ike made a dejected face.

“Sorry,” Ike said. Soren shook his head.

“Ike…” he started, unsure of what to say. “Thank you for the effort, at least.”

Ike offered a crooked smile, “Next time, I’ll just ask you first.”

* * *

It was late, or, at least late enough to upset Soren should he shift the wrong way and accidentally wake him. Now, of all times, however, Ike figured he would be able to get away with a poor night’s sleep. He threaded his fingers through silky, black hair and let Soren bury himself deeper in his chest, staring tiredly at the wall.

“Ike, you should sleep,” Soren mumbled into his chest. Ike shivered slightly at the sensation.

“So should you,” he countered, voice just as sluggish.

“I would, but you keep moving,” he said. Caught, Soren stretched stiffly and sat up, avoiding Ike’s gaze. “…Is there something on your mind?” Tentative, as though testing water, though Ike had thought they’d know each other’s boundaries by now.

“Nothing in particular,” he replied. He took a moment to examine Soren’s form in the faint moonlight leaking through the tent, hunched shoulders from years of leaning over desks, the slim outline of his cheek, and suddenly, something clicked.

“Hey, Soren,” Ike said. “I love you.”

Soren tensed. Ike couldn’t see his expression.

“…Is it that surprising?” Ike said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, only half-joking. Soren thought for a moment longer.

“No, I’ve known,” he said, voice the softest it’d been since that fateful day in the tower, “It’s just…” He paused, perhaps for a moment too long, but Ike allowed him to collect his thoughts. “Love is so… noble. The type of concept reserved for tragedies, or worse, fairytales. Is that really… us?”

Ike thought back for a moment, on all the adventures he’d had, all the people he’d met, and knew, deep down, that for once in this argument, he knew something Soren didn’t. It was so much to say, and Ike couldn’t really think of how to tell, so he sat up next to Soren, and tried something new.

“Yeah, it is,” he said simply, and leaned in to kiss him.


End file.
